


Black Butterflies

by undun



Series: 4x2 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Physical Disability, alternative ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5303627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A resolution occurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Butterflies

 

The day is bright and warm. Thank Merlin I don’t have to face it that often, sequestered as I am down where the temperature is constant and the light predictable. Exactly the kind of environment that makes it an enviable place to work on potions. It is my home more than any other has been. It means more to me than any hereditary patch of ancestral dirt. I doubt that I could ever leave now.

 

What would I do if I had to? What if he left?

 

He has no real understanding of what has happened. Yet he knows more than he did before. Too much, actually, as I had no intention of revealing the whole truth to him for at least– oh, a thousand years or so.

 

He still has no idea that for all intents and purposes he is my Master now. And if it ever came to it, I would have to follow him down whatever path he chose to take me.

 

Why did I take off my shirt that day? It’s been years since I have shown myself in any way to anyone. Well, voluntarily anyway. Except Tom Riddle, when he still was Tom Riddle – not some twisted little toe rag of Dark Lord. I would have been Potter’s age then and he would have been–

 

Shite! There’s less than a decade’s difference. It is a difference. I need to remember that. This situation is in no way similar. I’m sure that I was just testing the boy that day. It was a spur-of-the-moment impulse, to see how close he intended to get to me. Unfortunately I lost control of the situation immediately after he saw my Dark Mark.

 

There is a thunderous applause from the surrounding stands and I start clapping automatically. An Old Boys & Old Girls match to lift the spirits of the assembled mob. Well, the First Years need nothing lifted, though I daresay the rest of them are in need of it. Even the staff, with the exception of my good self, of course.

 

The fact that Potter is playing today made me easy prey for Minerva. I found myself acquiescing to her request to attend within an humiliatingly short time. It was amusing to see the scuffing of shoes, the careful studying of the floor, and the outright shyness Potter exhibited when he made the same request of me, unnecessarily, after dinner in my rooms the same night.

 

Yes, he thinks I have a choice. Amusing.

 

The teams fly out onto the pitch circling into formation. Hooch, the dear old bat, throws up the quaffle and it all becomes a bit of a blur from there. I think it’s basically Gryffindor against Whomever. A motley combination of old players from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and one lone Slytherin: Draco Malfoy. He has made some progress over the past year and is apprenticed to the local Apothecary. Merlin, if Malfoy thrives after all that has happened, I may have to start being optimistic. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.

 

We are deep into the game when everyone takes a collective breath and freezes. I recognise the trailing robe. Potter. And he is speeding to catch an invisible snitch that only he can see. No, he and Malfoy actually–

 

No one is more surprised than the goalkeeper when the deflected quaffle flies straight into Potter’s face at speed. It was obviously an accident. Without Nesss, who is secured in my robe’s inner pocket, he hadn’t heard the warning shouts – would never have even seen their mouths moving in his intense, concentrated chase of the snitch.

 

I have no idea how I managed to get myself to the ground while levitating his body – preventing his uncontrolled descent. His broom has already bounced to the ground without him. Poppy is staring up at him in anxiety, flanked by her two para-medi trainees. I suppose I should relinquish him to her care now, but I lower him in my direction, making Poppy and her helpers scurry to me. I want to see the damage first.

 

He’s out cold for a start. I decide that it’s probably for the best – he has pieces of his shattered spectacles embedded in his face, getting them all out would probably have required him to be put out anyway. Delicate work. I hope that Poppy’s up to it….

 

“Severus,” she gasps breathlessly, “Let me see!” She kneels down beside me on the grass, placing a hand over his chest and simply listens. It’s only then that I realise I haven’t moved. I feel like someone’s cast a Petrificus Totalus on me. I really should get up now. It’s undignified.

 

There’s a small hiss that is becoming more insistent with each passing second. “It’s alright,” I murmur. “He’ll be alright.” Poppy is giving me a worried smile as I clamber up off my knees.

 

“Of course he will be, Severus. Don’t worry.”

 

I can feel my eyes practically popping out with mortification. She thinks I’m talking to myself– crazy with worry over Potter! I decide that there are simply too many onlookers crowding around to even begin to explain the situation to her. And besides, she really should have him Mobilocorpused up to the Hospital Wing by now. Why is she taking so long, anyway? If one of those shards is even close to piercing the brain’s membrane we are in serious danger of this becoming a life-threatening situation!

 

“Poppy, hurry up!” I can’t help the exhortation that comes hissing out from between my teeth. She glances at me again as I loom over the gathering. She conjures a stretcher and instructs her assistants to take Potter up to the Hospital Wing. They push through the milling spectators with their burden – I don’t much like the way the stretcher is being jostled.

 

“Severus.” Poppy has turned back to me. Why the hell is she still here? “He is in no danger. The fragments are not located near any areas that will affect his brain. He’ll be numb in patches for a few days, that’s all.” I know that I am staring at her in confusion. Why is she telling me all this exactly? She puts her hand on my arm. I can feel that sneaky snake hitching a ride to the Hospital.

 

“You did very well to catch him in time. If he had hit the ground and driven some of those pieces in at an angle.” She gives a little shudder, which no doubt helps cover Nesss’ manoeuvring. “Well, it could have been much worse.”

 

“I will stop by later.” I just want to get her on her way. I turn away from her to talk to Hooch. I notice Malfoy standing a few feet away with his hand clutched around the snitch. So, the Slytherin wins due to his opponent’s misfortune? Not for the first time. But this time I find no joy in it. I must be unwell.

 

*** *** ***

 

I walk swiftly towards my rooms after seeing Poppy finally depart for the Hospital Wing. The occasional cluster of students scattered about seems an unreasonable obstacle to my progress. Where did they all bloody come from anyway?

 

As I walk, I run my fingers compulsively over the small locket attached to my fob chain.

 

‘What the devil is this, Potter?’ the conversation returns to me unbidden. ‘It’s a Christmas present, Severus. Now you say: thankyou, Harry!’ I grimace at the inane tone from my memory. We had been in my chambers at the time. It was the day after The Incident and I remember being surprised that he had returned to face me so soon.

 

‘Thankyou. I suppose. What do I do with it?’ He had snorted with laughter. It was mildly humiliating and I should have tossed him out on his ear right then and there.

 

‘You _open_ it, silly git! Here–’ He reached over and pressed a thumbnail against a small protrusion on the device. It flipped open, revealing an inscription over three lines on the inner lid: TO SEVERUS, CHEER UP. FROM H.P.

 

‘Cheer up?’ How terribly fatuous, even for him.

 

‘It’s charmed. You have to smile or the image remains hidden.’

 

‘Oh.’ I looked at it again. I wasn’t going to smile, most certainly not in front of him. He was probably reading it all on my face somehow, because he said – ‘I could tickle…?’

 

‘You keep your frigging hands to yourself, Potter!’

 

‘Anyway, it’s a treatment for depression–’

 

‘I am _not_ depressed!’

 

He continued, ignoring me – I think I have created a monster. ‘The depressed person starts to get used to smiling again, because… well… the image is charmed to reveal what they really want to see. A great motivational tool!’

 

He trailed off, and what I could see of his ears from under his black thatch of hair looked a little pinker than usual. I found out why after he had left. Merlin knows how _he_ knew.

 

I come to my door and enter my rooms. The door closes swiftly behind me, as if it knows that I will simply fall back to lean weakly against it.

 

I pull off my fob chain and stare at the offending lump of metal attached to it. Very tasteful, actually. Pewter. Warm to the touch now, due to my incessant fondling. There’s no point flipping it open, it would take quite a lot of effort to dredge up a smile, and I don’t feel the urge to try. For some reason I’m angry with the little bastard.

 

*** *** ***

 

I’m lying on my bed trying to still an insistent shaking. I think I was right earlier – I appear to have a fever of some kind. Feels like half a dozen bats fighting in my stomach. I stagger up to get a potion to ease the symptoms. Right, what do I need?

 

I need to see Potter, actually, and I am heading out of the door (very good, nicely anticipated opening) before I have really acknowledged the need. If I walk fast enough maybe I won’t have to.

 

I stride in as if I own the place. I find it always helps, though it seems to be redundant in this instance. Poppy has risen from her desk to usher me to his sick bed.

 

“I was expecting you. As you can see, all is well, Severus. No complications.”

 

I find myself letting out a long breath. There is a convenient chair next to the bed and I sit heavily. I think I really do have some kind of pesky virus. I must remember to ask her to check it out for me later. An unwelcome thought intrudes. I look up at Poppy, “Have you informed Sirius Black?”

 

“Of course. I sent him an owl as soon as I had the last suture finished. Harry isn’t a minor anymore, but I thought he would want to be informed.”

 

“Of course.” How can I not agree?

 

“I imagine he will be visiting tonight.”

 

“Yes.” That was a flat tone, even for me. I probably should go now. He’s not likely to awaken in the next few minutes.

 

“He won’t awaken for a little while yet. Do you want some tea while you wait?” Poppy asks me.

 

I shouldn’t be surprised. She obviously thinks I am consumed with some great feeling for Potter. Sitting down is good though, so I nod and do my best to smile at her in gratitude. She bustles away and I take the opportunity to study his mess of a face.

 

He looks like a bloody raccoon – eye sockets blackened already with the spreading subdural haematoma. Poppy has patched up the gashes, covering the deepest ones at his jaw and the upper cheek, just under his left eye (too close) with white bandaging. Thank Merlin… both places where there is an abundance of thick bone under the skin. He could have fared far worse.

 

I have to put my head low to combat the dizziness. Bloody virus! Nesss is sliding up from the edge of the bed where I have rested my forehead, circling my ear and hissing into it. I hiss back softly, “I know. He’ll be up again in no time. I know.”

 

“Mmmm, I love beetroot, thanks–” Harry mumbles incomprehensibly, turning his head towards me and smiling softly in his sleep.

 

*** *** ***

 

When I am shaken awake I utter a moan at the pain in my neck. I can barely stand to move my head –

 

– and meet a blue set of glaring eyes. “Black,” I grind out, “So nice to see you again. Have you been well?” Please say no, I beg silently. I hear a soft snort from beside me, and turn to look down at Potter. “You’re awake.” I observe redundantly.

 

“And your snoring is atrocious! Have you had your adenoids checked?”

 

Cheeky brat. I decide that I’ll let it go. Just this once. His eyes are barely open, swollen as they are by the bruising under the surface. “How are you feeling?”

 

He shows a hint of teeth, I think it might be a smile – or a close facsimile thereof. “Bloody shitty, actually.”

 

He swallows noisily and I look for some water. Black approaches him from the other side of the bed. He is holding a glass of water with a straw. I’m actually pleased with him for being halfway useful. I am now certain that I am unwell. I take the opportunity to give him a quick perusal and I feel further pleased with the observation of a little middle-aged spread encroaching on his once-svelte form. Time is catching up with the Hogwarts Heart-Throb at last. Something to do with getting comfortable these last few years, and not having to look over his shoulder every five minutes, no doubt.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Snape?”

 

He just had to spoil it, didn’t he?

 

“What did he say?” Potter’s eyes are sans glasses – he wouldn’t be seeing very much, and it takes a certain degree of good eyesight to read lips.

 

“Where’s Nesss?” She should be helping out.

 

“Who the hell is Ness?” Merlin! Is the man able to actually express _anything_ without taking a combative stance?

 

“It’s Nesss, and she’s a snake.” Honestly, it’s like talking to a First Year…

 

“What the hell are you doing with a snake in here?”

 

She is sliding out from my sleeve, obviously we have caught her napping. I hold my hand near Potter’s ear and she coils around it comfortably. “Oh, get knotted, Black,” I sigh in exasperation.

 

He lunges across the bed and I feel my shoulder gripped painfully. I didn’t think he’d be quite this dense. I vaguely wonder if has a brain tumour coming on.

 

“What is that _thing_ doing to him?”

 

What thing?

 

“Sirius!” Potter’s croak sounds pained, “Let him go!” He tries to lever himself upright, and I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, “Lie down, Harry. I don’t want to see those sutures burst!”

 

He settles down with a grimace. I push some hair off his forehead, I don’t think it will feel very good if it sticks to one of his sutures. He smiles dimly at me.

 

“Get your fucking hands off him, Snape!”

 

Oh, for fuck’s sake! With serendipitous timing, Poppy appears complete with bustling disapproval.

 

“Mr. Black! I will have to ask you to leave this Wing if you cannot control your language. This is a Hospital, not a public tavern!”

 

He looks ridiculously contrite. I mentally applaud Poppy. She gives me a worried look before she huffs off back to her office. And what was that about? She isn’t worried about me, surely?

 

“Sirius.” Harry still sounds like hell. “Nesss is a lovely little creature who has the ability to translate English to Parseltongue. I can’t always read people’s lips, so she helps me out on those occasions. And she’s damn good company as well.” He squirms a little, “Stop it. That tickles, girl!” I can pick up the hissing now. “Yes, very good company indeed. Now stop fishing for compliments!”

 

I look over to Black to see how he is receiving this explanation. I’m personally puzzled that Potter didn’t introduce his pet to Black when he saw him on his last visit home. Still, if Black’s current mulish expression is indicative of his normal reaction, then small wonder really.

 

I am struck suddenly with the question of why I am here. I find there is absolutely no reason why I should be. Maybe that’s why Black is being such a twit. Time for me to go. I’m hungry now – all traces of that virus have disappeared. Happily, it was one of those quick ones. I consult the fob watch from my waistcoat. “Well, I’ll be off, Potter. Dinnertime soon. Time to feed the inner Wizard.”

 

“Okay, Severus. Come back tomorrow?”

 

“Very well then.” I turn to nod at Black, “Black.”

 

He nods back, “Snape.”

 

Potter snorts again. It is just a little amusing. I find the edges of my mouth are threatening to curve up. I had better leave. Now.

 

As my steps carry me to the door I hear the fierce question, “Harry, what the hell are you doing calling Snape by his first name?”

 

I can’t believe that I fought side-by-side with someone _that_ thick.

 

*** *** ***

 

I am in the corridor, walking in the direction of the Hall. I decide to risk a quick peek. Pulling on the chain, I loosen it enough to open the locket. A quick check to see if anyone is lurking about in the corridor – no, they must have all gone in for the meal. I smile down at the image area of the locket.

 

There he is, complete with vapid grin. Idiot!

 

*** *** ***

 

“Go on. I like listening to your voice.”

 

I sigh heavily. How did I end up here? Didn’t I once have a life? Something that involved teaching incandescently stupid children and running cutting-edge potions trials on the side?

 

“Every culture has its myths of those who are punished by the gods and sentenced to eternal damnation. In Greek and Roman mythology, Tantalus suffered a particularly nasty fate. He had dishonoured the gods by serving them his own flesh instead of meat, and Zeus banished him to the Underworld– Potter this is really quite grotesque! Don’t you have anything less _sanguinary_ to read?”

 

“Yes, that’s… um, I mean–” He blows out a gusty breath, and I wince at the frown that appears on his forehead. It pulls at the wounds.

 

“Stop frowning for pity’s sake! You’ll pop a stitch.” I flick through the book, looking for inspiration. No more cannibalistic tales, please.

 

“Severus?” I grunt in question right back at him. “I don’t think you should suffer anymore.”

 

“What?” I look across at him where he lays, comfortably ensconced on my lounge with his head on the spare pillow from my bed.

 

“I don’t want you to suffer.”

 

I am at a loss. “I hadn’t  realised that I was.” He stares short-sightedly back at me, the glasses repaired but still too painful to wear yet.

 

“Can you come closer?”

 

I place the book deliberately on the coffee table and move to kneel beside the lounge. I can feel a rapid thudding in my chest cavity. I have a sensation in my stomach that is something like two dozen butterflies trying to fly up my alimentary canal – it’s bordering on painful. I have the distinct feeling that I am on the threshold of something.

 

He reaches up and brushes my hair away from my face. It falls straight back, of course. Gravity is not my friend. He smiles and pushes the stubborn strands behind my ear.

 

“There, that’s better.” he breathes. I have to wonder for whom, as I am sure I now resemble a small, skinny troll – complete with jug ears. His hand brushes my cheek as he lowers it. I need a scotch. Immediately, if not sooner.

 

“I need a drink.” Damn, I didn’t mean to whine about it!

 

“You need me.” A simple statement of fact and one that I find impossible to deny. Is this why I have been acting so tragically out of character? I try to swallow; I really need to. Before the drool makes a mark on the rug. But my throat won’t cooperate. I lick my lips instead.

 

“I need a drink too.” I manage to croak.

 

“Okay.”

 

I think that was my permission to move. I struggle upwards and head for the bottle on the table. I pour myself a… quadruple.

 

“Oh, that sounds bad,” he comments unwelcomely. “Severus, don’t be afraid.”

 

Tell the damn butterflies! “Shut-tup and let me get drunk.”

 

“Only if you’ll let me stay tonight.”

 

Oh, why fight the inevitable? Never worked as a game plan before!

 

“Alright then,” I sigh.

 

*** *** ***

 

finis

 


End file.
